Woman Driver Quotes & Sayings

I'm an off-road racecar driver. And I think every woman in my life has told me that's not a sensible hobby. But when I was growing, even more than I wanted to be funny, I wanted to be a racecar driver. That's all I thought about. I worked for a race team when I was 15 and I traveled with them. — Dax Shepard

As if Mitchell needed another reminder that Julie wasn't the woman for him, fate delivered.
Julie snored.
Not a cute little snuffle either, but snorts worthy of an overweight truck driver named Bubba. — Lauren Layne

Remember me when I am dead and simplify me when I'm dead. — Gavin Douglas

Alpha men are very turned on by the alpha woman, really high chemistry, really fun to work with, probably really fun to have affairs with, but there's not sustainable harmony in that lack of complement. There can only be one person in the driver's seat. — Alanis Morissette

A woman should never underestimate the power of the child in the man. Sometimes the child seems to be in the driver's seat at the very moment when all a man's adult judgment and insight is needed. — Joyce Brothers

bringing together the professionals, such as experience designers, user experience researchers, front-end developers and prototypers, under a single umbrella. — Anonymous

You see, the Mets are losers, just like nearly everybody else in life. This is a team for the cab driver who gets held up and the guy who loses out on a promotion because he didn't maneuver himself to lunch with the boss enough. It is the team for every guy who has to get out of bed in the morning and go to work for short money on a job he does not like. And it is the team for every woman who looks up ten years later and sees her husband eating dinner in a t-shirt and wonders how the hell she ever let this guy talk her into getting married. The Yankees? Who does well enough to root for them, Laurence Rockefeller? — Jimmy Breslin

You told me I was the best sex you'd ever had in your life ... You couldn't get enough ... At one point you were so loud I thought sure hotel security was going to beat down the door. — Rachel Gibson

I prefer Ms. because it is similar to Mr. A man is Mr. whether married or not, a woman is Ms. whether married or not. So please teach Chizalum that in a truly just society, women should not be expected to make marriage-based changes that men are not expected to make. Here's a nifty solution: Each couple that marries should take on an entirely new surname, chosen however they want as long as both agree to it, so that a day after the wedding, both husband and wife can hold hands and joyfully journey off to the municipal offices to change their passports, driver's licenses, signatures, initials, bank accounts, etc. — Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

The bus-driver was whistling, perhaps in anticipation of his wife, who would be a woman with ample breasts, those of a realized maturity. It would be impossible that he did not have, from my point of view, a wife and children, indeed, a happiness such as I could not imagine to be real, even like some legend out of the golden ages. He had spoken numerous times during our journey of his old woman waiting, and he was going home. — Marguerite Young

Ye comin'?" Ben shook his head. "Nope. I'm just the driver. Ms. Adams owns the shop. She makes all the buyin' decisions." McPhearson nodded. "Seems my woman's determined to make a few buyin' decisions of her own." He shrugged. "I'll have to keep an eye on her. If Hazel has her way, she'll probably trade away me favorite chair. Finally got the thing fittin' me backside just the way I like it." "Colin McPhearson," his wife scolded from the porch, where she and Tori had paused to eavesdrop on the men's conversation. "No one in their right mind would take that lumpy, broken-down thing. There's a better chance of me breaking that old chair up for kindling than there is of a sensible woman like Mrs. Adams taking it in trade." "Don't be criticizing me chair, woman," McPhearson blustered, raising his voice but putting no real heat behind the words as he stomped the rest of the way across the yard. Ben — Karen Witemeyer

A flood comes in and completely covers a woman's home. She sittin' on the roof and cries out to God, 'Please help me.' Then an hour later, a boat comes by, and a man calls out, 'You need help?' And she answers, 'No, I'm waiting on God to save me.' Another hour goes by, the floodwaters are even higher now, and she cries out to God, 'Please help me.' Another boat comes, and the driver calls out, 'You need help?' And she says, 'No, I'm waiting on God to save me.' Another hour, and more water. It's up to her chin now. She's not gonna make it. Same story, she denies rescue, and of course she dies. When she goes through the pearly gates, she meets Peter, and she tells him how sad she is that God never answered her prayer. He looks at her and says, 'You idiot, he sent you three boats. — Marie Hall

When his life was ruined, his family killed, his farm destroyed, Job knelt down on the ground and yelled up to the heavens, "Why god? Why me?" and the thundering voice of God answered, There's just something about you that pisses me off. — Stephen King

noticed a large digital screen on the wall facing what looked the common area, where people would gather for announcements. He saw numbers labeled on the buildings, and the buildings themselves, but he didn't see anything else. The transport stopped at Building One, and the driver simply, and in a somewhat harsh tone, said, "Out!" The children scrambled to get out of the transport, and as the last one barely made it off, the transport drove away, presumably being driven back to the registration area. They began to enter the building, when they were greeted by an adult woman. The children thought she looked mean and angry, and the teens thought she was built like a bodybuilder, but looked and sounded like a man with her short butch haircut and somewhat deep voice. — Cliff Ball

I looked at him now, the memory clear in my mind and gone from his. What would it be like to forget your favorite color? - or the girl that smashed up your heart? Airport blue haunted me. It became a brand to me, a trademark of our broken relationship, and my failure to move on. Airport fucking blue. — Tarryn Fisher

She [Chien-Shiung Wu] is a slave driver. She is the image of the militant woman so well known in Chinese literature as either empress or mother. — Emilio G. Segre

He started touching me. 'How old are you?' He ran his hands over my nose, my mouth, my eyes. I was paralysed. 'Nine. What about you?' 'Nine.' 'When's your birthday?' 'The twelfth of September. And yours?' 'The Twentieth of November.' 'What's your name?' 'Michele. Michele Amitrano. What year are you in at school?' 'The fourth. What about you?' 'The fourth.' 'Same.' 'Same' 'I'm thirsty.' I gave him the bottle — Niccolo Ammaniti

Madame de Merteuil, though indeed a woman highly regarded, has perhaps only one fault: she overestimates her ability; she's a skilful driver who enjoys guiding her chariot between rocks and precipices and whose sole justification is that she remains unscathed. We can certainly praise but it would be unwise to follow her; she agrees with that view and condemns herself for it. — Pierre-Ambroise Choderlos De Laclos

Her Kind

I have gone out, a possessed witch,
haunting the black air, braver at night;
dreaming evil, I have done my hitch
over the plain houses, light by light:
lonely thing, twelve-fingered, out of mind.
A woman like that is not a woman, quite.
I have been her kind.

I have found the warm caves in the woods,
filled them with skillets, carvings, shelves,
closets, silks, innumerable goods;
fixed the suppers for the worms and the elves:
whining, rearranging the disaligned.
A woman like that is misunderstood.
I have been her kind.

I have ridden in your cart, driver,
waved my nude arms at villages going by,
learning the last bright routes, survivor
where your flames still bite my thigh
and my ribs crack where your wheels wind.
A woman like that is not ashamed to die.
I have been her kind. — Anne Sexton

Was it an insult to be called a "woman writer"? Didn't it have a taint of, say, the "woman driver"? — Mary Norris

We spend our lives dreaming of the future, not realizing that a little of it slips away every day. — Barbara Johnson

And one day when you wake up, you happen to realise that your battle isn't with the man you had got into a brawl with the other day, it isn't with a friend turned foe, it isn't with those parents who chose to give up on you, it isn't with the bus driver for not having waited until you got in, it isn't with the employer who cancelled the application to your leave, it isn't with the examiner who resolved into failing you, it isn't with the woman who did not reciprocate your feelings, it isn't with child who dropped his ice-cream cone on you, it isn't with your ill fate and it isn't with that superior being above you.
Your battle, your fight isn't against the world but against yourself and the only way to come through all of it and beyond, to win, is improvement, self-improvement which needs to be gradual and progressive with the transverse of each day. — Chirag Tulsiani

Your courage draws people out of complacency into their destiny. — Bill Johnson

If you really care about animals, then stop trying to figure out how to exploit them 'compassionately'. Just stop exploiting them. — Gary L. Francione

Good thing about hanging out with a pregnant woman: designated driver by default. — Amelia C. Gormley

Sleep pressed upon him with an urgency that became resistless. And April Bell was calling to him. Her voice came clearly to him, above all the subdued murmur of traffic noises. It was a ringing golden chime, more penetrating than the occasional beep of a driver's horn or the far clamor of a streetcar. It shimmered out of the dark, in waves of pure light as green as her malachite eyes. Then he thought he could see her, somehow, far across the slumberous town. Only she wasn't a woman. — Jack Williamson

When the main crowd of worshipers reached the short bridge spanning the pond, the ragged sound of honky-tonk music assailed them. A barrelhouse blues was being shouted over the stamping of feet on a wooden floor. Miss Grace, the good-time woman, had her usual Saturday-night customers. The big white house blazed with lights and noise. The people inside had forsaken their own distress for a little while. Passing near the din, the godly people dropped their heads and conversation ceased. Reality began its tedious crawl back into their reasoning. After all, they were needy and hungry and despised and dispossessed, and sinners the world over were in the driver's seat. How long, merciful Father? How long? A stranger to the music could not have made a distinction between the songs sung a few minutes before and those being danced to in the gay house by the railroad tracks. All asked the same questions. How long, oh God? How long? — Maya Angelou

A significant driver of opposition to abortion is the social construction of the Ideal Woman. In a culture that rarely, if ever, allows women simply to be people, value is ascribed based on a woman's relation to something other than herself. A woman on her own is like a bit of driftwood floating in the ocean. She is a broken object with no purpose, waiting either to wash up on the shore and be put to use as part of something else, or to sink and be forgotten forever. — Clementine Ford

So you never know when you can get through.
p 179 Jack the Bus Driver talking about helping a woman on the bus who was an alcoholic — Rachel Simon

It is hard to say what will happen to the people that pass in and out of life. A simple cab driver can be just a driver, or he can be the love of one's life. A woman on the street waiting for a ride could become a passenger, or something much deeper. In the end, you never know who you will meet or where. — Brooke Williams

In the end, my pursuit of the elusive New York State driver's license became about much more than a divorced woman's learning to drive for the first time. — Suzanne Vega

The driver thought I was crazy - but then his religion thinks stoning a woman to death for adultery is reasonable, so I figured we were about even. — Terry Hayes

When I did 'Frantic,' I didn't have a lot of experience. My English was so bad, and I did an OK job, I think, but I was not amazing. — Emmanuelle Seigner

Climb back up here. We're going to have to jump."
She stated it so calmly he almost didn't comprehend. His head snapped around. "Are you out of your fucking mind, Rose? You're pregnant. You can't jump out of a moving car."
"Well, it's that or go with it into the ravine. I prefer the sand. Move it, soldier. You've got about fifteen seconds."
She wasn't kidding. The woman was insane, already opening the driver's door and bailing before he could stop her. Kane kicked open the backseat passenger door and dove. — Christine Feehan

Rather than seek to be squired and dated by their rivals why should it not be possible for women to find relaxation and pleasure in the company of their 'inferiors'? They would need to shed their desperate need to admire a man, and accept the gentler role of loving him. A learned woman cannot castrate a truck-driver like she can her intellectual rival, because he has no exaggerated respect for her bookish capacities. The alternative to conventional education is not stupidity, and many a clever girl needs the corrective of a humbler soul's genuine wisdom. — Germaine Greer

A woman gets into a taxi in Boston's Logan airport and asks the driver, 'Can you take me somplace where I can get scrod?' He says, 'Gee, that's the first time I've heard it in the pluperfect subjunctive. — Steven Pinker

The only trouble was, I wasn't with a group of my peers. Who are my peers? [ ... ] And there I was with a dismal coven of repentant soaks
a car salesman who had fallen from the creed of the Kiwanis, an Jewish woman whose family misunderstood her attempts to put them straight on everything, a couple of schoolteachers who can't ever have taught anything except Civics, and some business men whose god was Mammon, and a truck-driver who was included, I gather, to keep our eyes on the road and our discussions hitched to reality. Whose reality? Certainly not mine. So the imp of perversity prompted me to make pretty patterns of our discussions together, and screw the poor boozers up worse then they'd been screwed up before. For the first time in years, I was having a really good time. — Robertson Davies

A woman driver went through a red light. The cop stopped her and said, Lady, didn't you see that red light? The woman said, You've seen one, you've seen them all. — Joey Bishop